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"Look. Look. All I’m saying is, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for why there’s no evidence Santa exists.” Catra’s voice is probably too loud for whatever festivity there’s supposed to be amongst friends celebrating on Christmas Eve.
She doesn't recall how they got to this point but it seems important. The warmth of the liquor sloshing in her gut makes her feel comfortable as she lays on the plush area rug.
Scorpia giggles. “Wildcat, just how drunk are you right now?”
“Very. Don’t interrupt.” Catra wags her finger at her friend. “What was I saying?” She taps the same finger on her chin. She can’t really feel her bottom lip, which isn’t a great sign.
“There’s an explanation for the lack of evidence in a Santa.” Entrapta pipes up. She's sitting up on the couch, eyes not straying from the Christmas movie playing on the TV, even though it's muted.
“Yes. That. You see, Santa…" Catra trails off for a couple moments, trying to remember whatever conclusion she’d come to moments ago, then suddenly snaps her fingers. "Santa is a vampire.”
“Actually, the data suggests that Santa is just a myth made up by parents to instill a sense of wonder in their children.”
“I don’t get it. How does that explain anything?” Scorpia asks Catra, both of them used to moving past Entrapta’s interjections.
“Because he was turned,” she says, with a conviction typically reserved for first-year business majors. “Spent all that time building up the legend, and then bam. Can’t enter anybody’s houses, no more way to leave presents, no more Santa.” She waves her arms, slamming one on the rug.
“But that’s so sad!” Scorpia cries out, looking on the verge of tears.
Shit. She isn't trying to ruin Christmas for her best friend.
Uh. Fuck it. Catra cups her hands around her mouth and shouts. “Vampire Santa, you can bring ME a present!” She feels a little dumb saying it, but the look of relief on Scorpia’s face at the realization that at least one house is willing to let Vampire Santa in this year kind of makes it worth it.
Being an engineer is mostly awesome, except when she's unable to travel for the holidays. It's her first big project and she's the most junior associate, so she's stuck putting together all of the pieces so that everything is ready for the new year.
Her moms were sad she couldn't travel home this year, but they understood. It's a bit unsettling not being home for Christmas, though.
She practically trips over a box when she comes down the stairs, bedraggled and half-asleep, moping about work.
"…The fuck?" She picks up the box, studying the beautiful wrapping job.
It’s a delicate golden bow with sweeping spirals, carefully placed atop a burgundy paper. The paper is stiff under her fingers—it clearly isn't from the dollar store like the stuff her moms usually buy. Her first Christmas after being adopted they’d gone a bit more all-out, but even the presents from that year hadn’t been wrapped nearly as elegantly.
A little niggle of guilt tugs at her gut. It must be a gift from Scorpia—she was so down and out about the holiday season yesterday. She seems the type to spread Christmas cheer to feel better herself.
Stuck on the back of the box is a card. She ignores it for a moment, enjoying the sound of the thick paper tearing. She never got gifts that were wrapped this well, that was only in the movies.
Her eyes bulge as she realizes exactly what it is—a tablet she hadn't told anyone that she'd been eyeing. It was completely out of her budget. She was hoping to get one that was half the price and she’d already been saving for six months to even pull that off.
"No way," she breathes out. She pulls it out of the box, and sure enough, it’s the same tablet pictured on the outside, shiny and new. She then grabs the card and opens it.
Catra,
I didn't have time to write notes before, but now that I have less gifts to put together, I can afford to. Thank you for letting me in. I hope that you get to draw to your heart's content this year.
Merry Christmas!
Santa
This has to be Scorpia, she thinks, tail lashing. How the hell did she find this tablet and buy it last night? All the stores must have been closed. Still, it's the only thing that makes sense.
She quickly dials her best friend’s number, only having to wait two rings before she picks up. "I'm going to kill you," she says the moment Scorpia answers.
"Huh? Why, buddy?" She sounds sleepy and confused. “Merry Christmas by the way!”
She ignores Scorpia’s act, positive it’s just her playing dumb. "You spent way too much money on my gift!"
"Um, Catra, we haven't even exchanged gifts,” she says uncertainly.
"Yeah, you left it here last night! And I don't know how you knew I wanted it! Are you tracking my online browsing?"
"Wildcat, I have no idea what you're talking about." The befuddlement in Scorpia's voice snaps Catra out of her anger.
"You really don't know do you?" Catra realizes as she stares down at the expensive gift.
"I have no idea."
"I just got this expensive as shit gift under my tree," she says. Well, “tree” is a bit of a stretch—the poor thing is basically a glorified twig—but it’s the thought that counts.
"Well, who does it say it's from?" She prompts.
She thinks about lying because she worries about getting Scorpia's hope up but she doesn't know what else she can say. "Santa,” she admits begrudgingly.
“Well, seems like there’s a pretty reasonable explanation, then,” Scorpia says, and Catra can hear the dumb enthusiastic grin on her face. "Should I check under my tree? Maybe Santa brought me–"
“Shut up,” she snaps. "It can't be Santa. I’m not twelve."
"Then who could it be?"
"Maybe someone wanted to give me a gift and thought I wouldn't accept it because it's expensive,” she wonders aloud. Her moms occasionally hassle her about what she wants—maybe they somehow got word.
"Well, why don't you just enjoy the gift? There's no harm." Scorpia still sounds kind of confused.
She could, but the burning curiosity she feels says otherwise. "I'll figure it out,” she assures Scorpia.
There has to be a reasonable explanation for this.
She spends weeks asking careful questions and dropping comments about her tablet to try to find the culprit, but she keeps drawing a blank. After three months, she figures whatever return policy there might have been on the tablet is long gone, so she might as well enjoy it.
Drawing on the tablet is night and day compared to her old one. The stylus is smooth on the pristine screen, strokes flowing exactly how she wants them to. The display itself is also absurdly high quality, which makes any progress she has made in her drawing skills feel exponential.
She takes to drawing with it every opportunity she gets, which includes when she's hanging out with her moms while visiting.
"How did you spring for that Catra? We were looking at some of them but we weren't sure which one it was you wanted." Netossa asks, leaning forward so she can watch Catra shade a duck on a lake.
Her tongue pokes out as she focuses on her shading. "A friend gave it to me,” she says absentmindedly.
"Oh, what kind of friend? A sugar mommy?" Netossa goads, knocking her shoulder into Catra.
Catra groans. "No! Why would you even say that?"
"I'm pretty sure that tablet costs more than the taxes on this house."
"Dearest, she'll tell us about a girlfriend when she's ready," Spinerella says lightly.
"There's no girlfriend just—" how is she supposed to explain how she got the thing when she doesn’t really know herself? "—a good friend, that’s all."
"If you say so, Catra." The heavy skepticism makes Catra want to snap back but she holds off.
"I do." She wills it to be true, that whoever gave her this great gift isn't looking to screw her over.
"Well, whoever gave it to you I'm glad. You're always happiest when you're drawing."
Catra smiles up at Spinnerella. "You know it makes me happy to see you both too,” she admits, setting the tablet aside.
“Ah, we knew you were a softie, kid,” Netossa says, pulling her into an affectionate noogie.
“Stop, stop!” Catra laughs, squirming to get away from her. “I’m never saying anything nice about you two again.”
The night before Christmas she sits by her moms' chimney, thinking about last year.
"Hey. I don't know if you're real, but if you want to bring me something else I wouldn't say no. Santa or not, that tablet was sick. So thanks for that."
The next morning, she feels excited but she ignores it. Whoever gave her last year's gift hadn't come forward, but it wasn't some supernatural old man.
The gift exchange with her moms was usually simple—everyone gave out the gifts they brought and then they opened them one at a time.
By the time they’re done, Netossa does her tree inspection, always pretending that something might have gotten stuck somewhere. When Catra was little, sometimes she'd hide a present in the tree, but that hadn't happened in years.
"I think there's another present?" The confusion in her voice makes Catra’s eyes snap up to where she’s picking something up behind the tree.
Spinnerella rolls her eyes. "Good one, dearest."
"No, really!" She gently pulls out a wrapped gift from the far side of the tree.
Catra's gut swoops when she realizes it's the same dark red as the gift from last year. Her nose wrinkles as she notices holes in the top of the box.
"It says it's for you, Catra."
Spinnerella looks between her wife and daughter, also confused. The silence is broken when a soft meow is heard from inside the box.
"Oh shit," Netossa says, gripping the box tighter. She hands it over to Catra. "Well, what are you waiting for, kid?"
She carefully opens the box, and curled up in a soft blanket at the bottom is a tiny black kitten, purring up a storm. Catra gently picks it up and notices a note tucked up against the side of the box.
Catra,
This is Melog. Moves can be lonely, and I thought you could use a friend.
Merry Christmas!
Santa
Over the next few months, Catra spends a bit more effort than last time trying to figure out where Melog came from, but even asking around about the bags of cat food that keep showing up whenever she runs low—or the reminders for vet visits she definitely didn’t schedule—doesn’t get her any closer to solving the mystery.
Almost exactly a year later, Catra yawns as she stirs her hot chocolate. Yesterday hadn't been the Christmas eve she'd been hoping for—her car died on her when she was coming home from work, so there's no way she could drive anywhere today. And to add insult to injury, there wasn’t anything from “Santa” under the tree this year. She's ashamed to admit she checked around the whole tree twice before deciding there really wasn't an extra gift.
Beneath the embarrassment, she’s honestly a little bit disappointed too. It’s not like she’d really expected anything, but it had been nice. Not only the gifts, but the surprise behind them. She picks up some tongs to put a couple marshmallows in her mug—the residue is absolute hell to get out of her fur once they start going sticky—and makes her way to the small window that overlooks the street to see if it’s snowed any more since last night.
When she opens the blinds, she almost drops the drink, because there is a dark red Subaru parked in the driveway, with one of those comically large bows on it. A bit like in all the stupid fucking car commercials she can’t escape around the holidays, but with one small exception: it’s the same shade of gold as the one on her tablet and the box Melog came in.
“What the fuck.” Catra blinks a couple times, but the car remains. She sets her mug down and goes to grab her jacket, intent on going outside to investigate. As she pulls it off the rack and shrugs it over her shoulders, she notices a suspiciously key-fob-shaped object hanging next to it, covered in the same wrapping paper as the last two years, with another damn bow.
Catra rips the paper off, then smashes the “lock” button as she opens the door.
The car in her driveway chirps.
Okay, what in the actual hell.
“Can whoever the fuck it is that apparently just gave me a car please come here and explain themselves?” She bursts out.
She almost expects someone to come out from the bushes and unmask their elaborate con. Instead, nothing happens, so after a few moments she just gets inside the car and looks around. On the dashboard is another note from whoever is doing this.
Catra,
Having to (cross)trek to work on Mondays is hard enough without transportation issues. Hope this helps.
Merry Christmas!
Santa
She rolls her eyes at the lame pun and opens the glove compartment. Sure as anything, there’s the car's paperwork, registered in her name.
"How the fuck did they get my signature?" It definitely can’t have been her moms; Catra hadn't even told them about her Toyota kicking the bucket yet.
She feels like she's losing her mind.
After spending most of Christmas thinking the police were going to show up at her house and inquire about the obviously stolen vehicle in her driveway, she decides to sleep in the next day.
When she wakes up she looks out of her window, and sure enough, the car is still there and nothing else is amiss. She shakes her head, trying to think of a reasonable explanation, but she has no idea how to make heads or tails of it.
She figures she needs to eat breakfast regardless so she makes her way downstairs. She stops in her tracks when she walks into her living room.
"Who are you, and why the fuck are you in my house?"
The woman is tall and beautiful, clear blue eyes and long blonde hair pinned up. She's rather pale, and wearing a pair of jeans, along with a Christmas sweater with a truly appalling number of bells hanging off of it.
Melog is sitting in her lap, purring.
Traitor.
"You did say I was invited in,” the blonde says with a smile, shifting in the chair. Her sweater jingles.
Catra takes an automatic step back. "You're not Santa." She realizes how stupid that sounds as the words leave her mouth, and tries to recover. "You’re a trespasser."
She shakes her head. "No, you specifically said Santa could come to talk to you. So here I am." She grins broadly, putting Melog down gently.
"Wait—that's why? The gifts and everything?" This lady is responsible for all of the thoughtful gestures and all the restless nights puzzling over the impossible? The blonde nods her head, her ridiculous ponytail bobbing. "I don't believe you."
In one fluid motion, she pulls a Santa hat off the table next to her and jams it onto her head, giving Catra a cocky grin. “How about now?”
“Still no.”
"Figures." The other woman taps her lips a few times, then looks at Catra again, contemplating.
“Third grade,” she says suddenly. "You gave Octavia a black eye. You said it was because she had a dumb face, but that was just so people didn’t think you had a soft side. It was actually because she’d been making fun of Kyle.”
Catra sputters. “That’s not true!” If Octavia had also recently tripped Kyle down the stairs at the time, it was of no consequence.
Santa, or whoever she is, just raises an eyebrow.
Catra grumbles. “Fine, fine, maybe it’s true. So, what, you’ve been spying on me this whole time?”
For the first time, the blonde looks a bit sheepish. “Well, technically, that specifically was from Mara’s notes, but… kind of?” Seeing Catra’s confusion, she rushes to continue. “Santa—well, She-ra, technically, though I’ve given up on trying to correct that mistranslation—is a title, not a name. Mara was the Santa before me.”
“Huh. What’s your name, then?” Catra asks.
Her blue eyes widen. “Oh! Sorry, I never introduced myself. Heh. I’m Adora!” She reaches out a hand for Catra to shake, which she begrudgingly accepts.
"I guess you know I'm Catra." She releases the blonde's hand. "So why did you stop… I don't know, Santa-ing?"
Santa—Adora—tilts her head and scrunches her nose. "You know why."
"I cannot explain to you how much I have no fucking clue about anything that's happening right now." It’s laughable that the woman thinks Catra is anything but out of the loop.
"Well, like you said the first time you invited me in, I need verbal consent. When I was human—or, well, regular supernatural being—it was enough to have cookies or some other decoration." She holds up her cold white hands. "Now? Not so much."
“There’s no way that—oh my god,” Catra says, as Adora bares her teeth, revealing a pair of sharp fangs. "Holy shit, I can't believe I was right about that," she mutters under her breath as her heart rate picks up.
“To be fair, I was surprised too.” She steps closer, hooking her thumbs through the belt loops of her jeans. "No one has outright guessed vampirism when they invite me in. Usually it's a more broad request for Santa."
Catra sighs, and pinches the bridge of her nose. “How did that even happen?”
“Vampire sorceress named Shadow Weaver. A real grinch, honestly,” she says with a shrug.
“Are you just saying that because she bit Santa Claus?” The words sound ridiculous.
Adora laughs. “Maybe.”
Catra kind of wants to be upset about this, but mostly she's relieved she isn't crazy. The blonde is proof that there is something magical that explains the gifts and everything else. Doesn't hurt that she's really cute either.
Melog, unhappy to no longer be the center of attention, launches themselves up Adora as if she's a big scratching post, ending up on her shoulder. Adora laughs, swooping Melog off her shoulder to hold them like a baby and rock them.
“You know, it looks like Melog likes you. If you want to come around again sometime, I guess I wouldn’t hate it.” Now that she knows, she's curious about the blonde that’s currently making kissy noises at her cat. Maybe she should be a bit more cautious, but that’s never really been Catra’s style.
“To be clear, you’re inviting me to come back?” Adora asks as she scratches Melog's chest, their rolling purr loud between them.
Catra rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine. I hereby give Vampire Santa explicit permission to visit, even if she isn’t bringing me a Christmas present at the time. Now, get out of my house. I’ve gotta call my moms.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming!”
Catra yanks open the door, expecting to find some lost delivery driver—seriously, it’s “court,” not “street,” how do so many navigation apps have a problem with this—but instead is confronted with a familiar face. She stays silent as she takes in Adora standing on her doorstep.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Adora grins shyly, shifting her waist from side to side.
"I thought you weren't coming back,” Catra says after a few moments. She isn’t sure when her hope that Adora would return waned into nothing, but it’s been months since she seriously entertained the possibility.
"Oh. Why?" Adora asks, sounding genuinely puzzled.
"It's July. It's been a long time." Catra honestly thought that she might have hallucinated the woman in the first place.
"Oh! Well, you know—Christmas in July."
Catra rolls her eyes. "You can't be serious right now."
Adora bites her lip gently. "And, maybe I was worried that you'd regret inviting me back."
“Yeah, hanging out with the hot person that gives me free stuff sounds like torture,” Catra says, stepping back and gesturing inside.
Adora just grins as she steps over the threshold.
“What?” Catra demands, closing the door as Melog zooms toward Adora.
“You think I’m hot.” The blonde flashes her a cocky smirk that makes Catra want to die a little.
She can feel herself blushing. “No. Maybe. Shut up or I’m kicking you out.” Resorting to threats seems like the safest option.
“You would kick me, a hot person, out of your house?” She makes her mouth a perfect ‘o’ of surprise but her eyes are bright with laughter. It makes Catra want to kiss her.
“Shut up, Adora!”
Adora’s been over a few more times in the past couple of months. Sometimes they’ll watch TV or Catra will cook for them—well, really just for herself, but Adora insists she still loves the smells—but a lot of the time they’ll just end up enjoying each other’s company in silence. Catra usually needs a little while after work to be by herself and decompress, but for whatever reason, Adora’s company just doesn’t drain her like other people do.
Now, she's curled up on her couch, tablet in hand as she draws and enjoys Adora's eyes on her.
“You know, it’s different seeing you work on that in person,” Adora says almost under her breath, eyes focused on Catra's stylus and its sure strokes.
“Hmm?” Catra looks up from her tablet and squints at her. “In person?" She repeats.
"Uh, yeah." She stutters, looking like she's been caught in something.
Catra suddenly remembers all the Christmas songs about the many ways Santa is all-knowing and decides to ask a follow-up. "You been spying on me, Adora? What else have you been looking in on?” She murmurs suggestively.
“Nothing, I promise! It’s just… I don’t really know how to describe it. Santa magic, I guess. Good behavior, bad behavior, sometimes people enjoying whatever I’ve gotten them. It’s not like I’m actually there,” she explains, her hands moving fast the way they do when she’s nervous.
Catra looks back at her tablet. "So, because you got me this you can see me when I use it?" She clarifies.
She seems to deflate a little, shoulders less stiff now that it’s clear Catra isn’t upset. "Something like that, yeah."
Catra tilts her head, then gives the shading on the hand a few more strokes with her stylus. “I think I want a vibrator this year,” she decides, with an impish grin.
Adora sputters.
“Do you want me to leave out a glass of blood or something?” Catra asks as she sits close to Adora. It'll be her first Christmas not having to wonder about how whatever mystery gift she receives gets under her tree.
The blonde rolls her eyes. "Where would you even get that, Catra?"
She shrugs. "I don't know. The internet is an amazing place."
"You could just let me bite you." Catra can't tell if it's a joke or not so she stares at the blonde. She stares back before laughing. "Ha! I got you."
"You're an actual vampire, how am I supposed to know if you're serious or not?" She protests, hiding her face a little. She’d thought the idea of Adora biting her could be kind of hot but whenever she’s looked at the blonde’s fangs the idle thought turns to queasiness.
"What, you think I got you gifts so I can… what? Chomp down on you?" Adora rolls her eyes.
"Well, don't you?"
"What?"
"Want to chomp down on me?" Catra asks with a raised brow.
Predictably, Adora’s brain seems to cease all higher functions for a moment. "Uh." Adora shakes her head, looking embarrassed. "So, because of the magic I have as She-ra, I actually don't need much blood to sustain me. When I was mortal I didn't need much food either, it's just part of how it works."
“You know, it’s a shame you’re a vampire,” she says slowly, leaning in closer.
Adora frowns, her eyes darting down Catra’s face before meeting her eyes. “Why’s that?”
“I bet it’d be really cute how much you’d be blushing right now if you weren’t.” She practically whispers the words into Adora’s ear.
“Catra!” She cries out, burying her face in her hands.
“See, just like that! You would be so fucking red,” she teases with a laugh.
“You’re so mean to me,” Adora moans.
“Yeah. Only because I like you, though,” Catra says, softly.
Adora lifts her head up, clearly not expecting that response. “You mean that?”
Catra tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling a bit shy. She knows she could walk it back if she wanted. Play it off as just friends.
She doesn’t really want to, though. “Yeah, ‘Dor. I do.”
Adora smiles. “I like you too.” She reaches out one hand, curling it around the one in Catra's lap. It's cold but its presence is comforting. "Can I come back when I'm done?"
Catra leans forward, tentatively pressing her forehead to Adora's, one of her ears twitching. "That sounds like a great Christmas present,” she teases, to cover the thundering of her heart.
Adora still leaves her something, of course, and Catra’s face burns when she opens the box, immediately remembering the shitty joke she’d made a few months back.
By the next holiday season, there's no question where Adora will stay when she finishes handing out gifts around the world.
“Go get ‘em, tiger.” Catra slaps her on the shoulder as she’s getting ready one morning, a few weeks before the big event.
Instead of rolling her eyes, Adora shrieks. “What the fuck, Catra?” She grabs at her shoulder.
“What? What did I do?” She asks, puzzled by Adora's reaction.
The blonde grips her shoulder. “I’m sunburned to hell, and you just slapped my shoulder!” She complains, lower lip jutted out in protest.
Catra stares at her for a second. “Adora. You don’t have any blood. Sunburned you looks exactly like regular you, how the fuck was I supposed to know that?” she demands.
Adora has the decency to look sheepish. “Oh. Yeah.” She takes a step closer to Catra. "Sorry I yelled."
“It’s fine, just surprised me is all.” Catra leans in close to whisper in her ear. “If you want, I can kiss it better, though.”
“Catra, I have to go,” she giggles, although she looks awfully tempted to stay put.
“Buzzkill. How’d you even get a sunburn anyway?”
“Glimmer had a birthday party. She decided it had to be a beach party, and there’s only so much time and effort I can put into limiting her impulses. I wore sunscreen! This isn’t fair!” She pouts like the big baby she is.
Catra’s met Glimmer by now, so she can’t really fault her for the first part of that statement, but… “Adora, have you read a single thing about vampires ever?”
"Yeah, but like. I'm Santa! Santa magic should win!"
She rolls her eyes. “Dork.”
On Christmas morning, Catra’s ear twitches as the door to the bedroom open. She idly tracks Adora’s path—directly to the bed—by sound alone, eyes closed. The blonde grunts as she flops down next to her.
“Long night?” Catra asks.
“Always is,” Adora mumbles, face down into her pillow. She blindly reaches across the bed, patting down various parts of the comforter, until she finds Catra’s head to start scratching behind her ears. “Worth it, though. You get anything good?”
“Mmm… haven’t checked yet,” Catra says through a purr, melting into Adora’s touch.
She can feel Adora tense next to her. “What do you mean, you haven’t checked? It’s Christmas!” She sounds offended, which Catra supposes makes sense.
“Nope. We’re not doing this.” As Adora starts to sit up, Catra grabs the back of her shirt and pulls her back down. She clambers on top of her, rubbing her cheek against Adora’s neck as she settles into place. “I want to open my gifts with you. But right now, you’re exhausted. You’re going to bed. We’ll open presents in the morning. Evening. Whenever.”
Adora looks like she might protest for a moment but then sighs. “Fine.” She tugs Catra back into her hold, seemingly determined to pet down her sides and leave her relaxed before she succumbs to sleep herself.
Catra ends up putting off unwrapping the gifts until the next day; the idea of a Christmas evening just feels a bit off to her. When she finally tears the paper off, she’s rewarded with a set of artist’s pencils.
It’s certainly not on the same scale as the car, but with Adora finally there to share in the joy, it’s by far her favorite to open.
“Enjoy the cookies, babe?” Catra asks, next December, as she leans against the counter.
Of course, the cookies are mostly ceremonial—Adora can't eat any food without significant difficulty and none of it tastes appealing anymore.
Adora fixes her with a glare, shoving the plate toward Catra. “You’re getting coal. Why are garlic cookies even a thing?” She complains as she makes a face at them.
Catra wrinkles her nose as the smell of them wafts toward her. “I have no idea, they’re terrible." Catra just thought it would be funny—after asking Glimmer and discovering that the garlic wouldn’t do anything bad to Adora unless she ingested it, of course. "Are you serious about the coal, by the way?”
Adora nods viciously, biting her lip to keep her smile in check. “Check your stocking if you don’t believe me.”
Catra swoons dramatically, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead. “Oh no. I’ve been naughty, Santa. I made my girlfriend cookies.”
Adora just starts laughing at her but trails off after a second. “You know, actual cookies are honestly one of the things I miss the most.” She looks a little wistful as she says it.
“That doesn’t surprise me. You seem like the kind of person to eat, like, four burgers in one sitting,” Catra says. “Also I guess it’s ‘cute’ or whatever that children get so excited about decorating things.”
“Right, right, ‘or whatever'.” Adora makes big air quotes, leaning against the counter. "Just admit you like kids and call it a day.”
"I don't, children are the worst."
"You are literally dating Santa Claus. I think it might be illegal for you to dislike children,” she points out.
"I'm also dating a vampire, which seems pretty in line with child hatred." She looks closely at her girlfriend. "How long are you going to live, anyway?"
Catra's learned that having a supernatural girlfriend usually means not asking too many questions about things that are above her pay grade. But still, she wonders what Adora's life might look like outside of their relationship.
"Well, no one really knows. No one else has been turned into a vampire while having the mantle of Santa."
"So for all you know, this either shortened or lengthened your life span?" She asks curiously. She never got a number, but she’d assumed that Adora is destined to outlive her, at least with how things stand now.
"Well, elves live a few hundred years? And most vampires are undead, so they don't have natural deaths. So it probably lengthened my lifespan, if anything."
“Hmm.” Catra takes a few moments to think about that, then shrugs her shoulders. She’s in her 20s; she and Adora have plenty of time to figure things out. No point in dwelling on it now.
Catra quickly takes to celebrating her true Christmas on the twenty-sixth. Each year, she spends the actual day of with her moms, who always wonder why Adora's job once again won't let her catch a break on the most wonderful day of the year. Still, it doesn't feel like Christmas until the next day, when she gets to unwrap her presents with the love of her life.
Her present this year is by far the smallest she’s ever received from Adora. She eyes the blonde with a raised eyebrow.
Adora looks nervous, a first for a Christmas gift reveal. "Sometimes important things come in little packages” is all she says, hand twitching at her side.
Catra eagerly tears the wrapping paper off, now more intrigued than ever. Her eyes widen as she takes in a small box, covered in black velvet.
Her jaw drops as she stares at it. “You didn’t.”
“Open it,” Adora says with a gentle smile, and Catra flips the lid up.
The ring inside is fairly simple. No huge stone, just a simple design in silver.
In other words, it’s perfect.
Adora’s halfway through some rambling explanation about “cultural significance” and how “it shouldn’t pinch your fur but it could go on a necklace if you hate it, oh god you hate it don’t you” when Catra silences her with a kiss.